


Cookies for Me, Cookies for You

by Cookiebooks



Category: mark fischbach - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Awkwardness, Baking, Cookies, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Food, Mild Language, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookiebooks/pseuds/Cookiebooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owning a pastry shop can leave a person exhausted and craving real human contact. On your worst day, however, when you had least expected, a certain someone enters your shop, and makes your days funnier... and a bit more flustered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh, Shit

The mornings were always the hardest.

It rained outside, as was usual in the heart of Autumn. Dark clouds loomed over the streets of London, and the cold wind managed to push through the poor insulation of the small flat you were living in.

The alarm clock on your phone went off two times already, silenced by your palm clumsily hitting it on the screen, not even bothering to turn off the snooze feature.

You sat up in the bed and rubbed your eyes with both hands, making the blanket fall off your shoulders. Every trace of warmth escaped your body, replaced by the shivers rising from your lower backbone to the neck, ending at your fingertips and leaving goosebumps along your skin.

Lightly rubbing away those goosebumps, you pulled yourself up, and before you could go to the bathroom, the alarm clock went off once again with its screeching noise.

You wondered how you tolerate that sound every morning, but then again, any alarm less annoying would make you ignore it and fall sleep again.

You took the phone from the nightstand beside the bed and tapped the screen to turn off the alarm.

And then you realize what time it is.

_Shit._

The muffin batter should already be baking in the oven.

_Shit._

The cookies should already be proudly presented behind the glass casing inside your cookie shop. You should already be making a new pitcher of raspberry sauce between tending to the customers who wouldn't take kindly to waiting outside the shop whilst you drool in your bed.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

You quickly take yesterday's clothes thrown over the armchair and pull them on, trying to smooth out the many formed wrinkles. In a blink, you run to the bathroom and comb through the mess that is your hair, while your other hand is busy squeezing the toothpaste right into your mouth. There is no time to waste.

Even though your hair still looks like someone stomped on it, and you probably smell a little musty, you have little choice, so you take the shoes laying by the doors and put them on. The cat you own jumps out of nowhere to gingerly rub herself on your legs, leaving long hairs on your pants.

A small smile stretches upon your lips, and you pet the loving creature on her soft, comforting fur.

For a short moment you consider the thought of staying in for today. To hell with the costumers, you could use a day off - you hadn't had one since you started the business.

“No.“ You whisper to yourself with a sigh.

You say goodbye to the cat before unlocking the door and grudgingly stepping out of the comfort of your home into the rainy streets of London.

* * *

 Once inside your little shop, you were relieved to see there were many cookies left from yesterday's batch, and there was still some raspberry sauce left that could just be heated up a pinch, instead of making more.

A few people came in, taking the usual stuff – two or three cookies, maybe a donut with chocolate glaze or, when a sporty girl would come, an oatmeal carrot muffin.

People had a lot of choice when they entered your shop, from sugar bombs to healthy carbs to genious combinations of various fruits and spices. And yet, you couldn't really say it was going like you always imagined as a child. Running a pastry shop wasn't exactly your dream, but it was what you got stuck with. It was… average. An average number of sold products, average pay, average life… nothing special.

You look towards the street to see that it was still raining - the water has stained all the windows and left you feel drained.

Maybe you should've stayed home, after all. There would still be batches from today, or even yesterday, that you could use tomorrow. You could oversleep tomorrow as well and nothing much would change.

The destructive thoughts started to build up in your mind, making your head hurt and eyelids heavy, longing for the bed to settle in between the warmth of the soft sheets and blankets.

God, if only –

The golden bell above the door chimed, and you heard a man saying “Hello!“ as he came inside, closing his umbrella and approaching you at the counter.

“Hello.“ You responded politely, pulling your head up to look at the customer.

And was it a _view_.

He wore a tight shirt emphasizing his muscular arms and chest, and his hair was colored in the middle, which got ruffled by the wind and rain.

Your mind moaned a little in that moment… just a little. Maybe.

_Shit, I'm staring._

“Oh, no, it's alright.“ He said casually, as if it was no big deal. He had an american accent, so you presumed he was here on a vacation of some sort.

“What? I didn't – uhh, I'm sorry!“ you sputtered, confused at the fact you just embarrased yourself in front of a handsome man.

_Stranger. He's a stranger_ , your mind reminded you.

“So, uhh, what would you like?“

“A chocolate donut please.“ He pointed to the place the where donuts were displayed, but then his warm brown eyes gazed upon the pyramid of cookies. “And.. hmm, say, what kinds of cookies do you have?“

You smiled a little, pointing with your fingers to where each of them was displayed. “Chocolate chips, white chocolate, oatmeal cookies, filled with chocolate, with raisins or goji berries, hazelnut… whatever you please.“

“Give me five filled chocolate cookies and one donut, then.“

_Oh, I'd give you all of it._ “Perfect.“ You whispered absent-mindedly as you took a paper bag and filled it with the things he ordered.

You handed the bag over to him, and for a split second, your fingers touched. His skin was so warm you felt the warmth travel from your hand to your stomach. He smiled and your heart fluttered.

How long has it been since you enjoyed any kind of physical contact with another human?

He left the money on the top of the glass case, and then opened the bag to take a cookie and bite into it. Was it just your imagination or did he really moan in that exact moment?

“Oh god. These are heavenly.“ He said and flashed you another, bigger smile. “Seems I'll have to come here more often.“ And with that, he waved you goodbye before stepping out of the shop.

He left your heart and stomach doing some trippy things.

You shook your head, but at the same time… you wanted to see that man again.


	2. The Realization

The following morning was a little easier. Partly because it was Sunday, and you didn't have to wake early, and partly because when you had finally awoken, your mind was occupied by the stranger visiting your cookie shop the day before.

Who was he, and why was he so interesting?

 _Have I ever seen him before?_. He seemed familiar, in a very strange way.

You couldn't help but wonder how soft and comfortable must it feel to hug that man, enveloped in his arms, resting your head in the crook of his neck…

A sigh escaped your lips and your heart felt like it was rolling. You snuggled between the sheets and tightly hugged the pillow instead, producing a squealing sound that had more resemblance to a fangirling squirrel that a human.

Deciding to stay in bed for the morning, you took the laptop from your work table and placed it on your lap. You opened the Youtube page to check out some new videos, maybe another chocolate cronut technique or the reviews of all the games you couldn't afford at the current time.

After the first video you watched was finished, your eyes quickly grazed over the _Recommended_ section on the right side of the screen, and then locked in place as your mind processed what you just saw.

That man.

Ruffled and dyed hair, small brown eyes, goofy grimace. _Wait_.

Markiplier.

_Markiplier??_

You clicked on his videos, watching in awe as this man yelled, talked in falsetto, made lame jokes and even cried while watching millions of people greet him and waved hands as if he was in front of them.

“Why am I such an idiot?“ you cursed at yourself, groaning. Your cat jumped beside you and locked her green eyes with yours, as if she was asking you to elaborate.

“I could've asked him for an authograph! Look at all the views he has! _The_ Markiplier came into my pathetic miniature store and I didn't even recognize him!“

And he was _so_ kind, so casual, so unlike what you'd expect of someone with his number of subscribers. You could squeal and sigh all day at the dream of having someone with a personality such as his - to be able to laugh at mistakes and cry freely when the world would take a toll on you.

_Meow. Meow._

“Be patient, this is important!“ you said to the cat, harsher than you wanted, but she was already nudging your hand to pet her. “Fine, you're right. It's stupid to dwell on this, I've got no chance either way.“

_Meeeeow._

You put your laptop away and grudgingly pulled yourself out of the bed. The heating was finally kicking in, so you didn't have any uncomfortable shivers… except that your stomach was filled with shivery butterflies as if you were a helpless schoolgirl.

You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen, grabbing a pouch of wet cat food from the cupboard.  The kitty pulled her tail up high and waited on the spot where she always got her meal.

 _What chance would an awkward, socially anxious baker have with a well-known, potentially wealthy Youtube figure?_ You could only sigh at the idea.

“Here you go.“ You said to the cat and brought down the bowl in front of her.

Making yourself a cup of coffee, you decided there was nothing you could do about the matter.

Either you'll meet him again, or you won't.

* * *

 Mark was sitting on the couch of the hotel room he was staying in, alongside his friend Jack.

The paper bag was laying open on the table, empty. The cookies were gone within five minutes of entering the apartment, and the two men almost fought for the single donut that was at first meant to be Jack's. Crumbles were scattered upon the table, since none of them has had the will to clean up the cookie residue.

“It's unfortunate the shop ain't open today.“ Mark said, wishing he could dive into another batch of fresh chocolatey gooey goodness.

“Aye. Should've taken the whole bag.“ Jack said, nodding, and then added “Could've bought the whole shop while you were at it.“

They both chuckled at the thought. “Well, I know where she is. I'll pay her a visit tomorrow.“

“ _Her?_ “ the Irish man asked, looking at Mark with a raised eyebrow and a smirk forming on his lips.

“Uhh.“

Jack saw a pinch of redness forming on Mark's cheek and laughed.

“Mark wants a girlfriend!“ He sang with a grimace plastered on his face, raising his arms towards the cieling.

Mark laughed as well, but he covered his mouth with his hand and squeezed shut his eyes. He loved his friend, but sometimes Jack was really conspicuous.

“So what if I do?“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very big thank-you to everyone reading this!! It makes my days brighter!


	3. A Tough Day

Monday came earlier than you expected. Well, sort of - Mondays are always unwelcome.

The good thing was that rain had finally subsided, so you decided to open the doors of the shop for a few moments to get some fresh air in. Not only that, but the smell of baked confectionery was free to spread throughout the whole street, indvading people's noses and inviting them inside.

It was a surprise to you when five customers came in within the first ten minutes of unlocking the shop. You really had to start making a new cookie batch. Either that, or you'd have to start presenting empty baskets and trays littered with crumbles and pieces of melted chocolate.

Opening the door to the back part of the shop, where you mixed all the flavors and baked all the wonders, you swiftly opened the large fridge and took out a bag of dough. It didn't hurt having one laying around, for times like these when you couldn't spend another fifteen minutes combining all the ingredients.

You took only half, and whilst keeping an eye out towards the front of the shop – in case someone new would come in – you scooped out equal portions with a sorbet scoop, so all the cookies ended up looking alike. They were round like ice cream on a cone, but in the oven, each one of them will dwindle and drop down into their traditional size.

You imagined making cookies for Mark in the morning, as if the two of you were really together. Or maybe, he would bake _you_ something. Pancakes, even. Covered in whipped cream and chocolate. Ohh, you could think of ways to use whipped cream.

_Not now,_ you reminded yourself. You have work to do.

Just as you were exiting the kitchen, more people came and you had your hands busy. One after another, they just kept coming, draining you of your energy. After noon, you didn't even have enough time to sit – you had to keep checking the baking cookies, and the customers kept you on your feet, walking from one part of the glass casing to the other.

Your head started feeling increasingly heavy, and you wished closing the shop and falling asleep in the chair behind the counter was an option. The worst part was, it _was_ an option, but one you couldn't afford.

If you only had an assistant, you could dedicate more time to baking and experimenting with new spices, while the cashier would tend to the front part of the shop and the customers…

_Yeah, but assistants cost._

Well, fuck.

So you tried to hold your head upwards and keep your mind working. As the night was reaching, you nearly sold caramel donuts instead of caramel cookies, and vanilla biscuits instead of sugar covered cronuts.

No one complained about the incident. You presumed they must have seen the circles of deep purple forming underneath your eyes.

The shop cleared only after eight, and hour before it's closing time. You counted minutes in yourself, waiting for the prized moment when you could step outside and walk to your home nearby.

The thought of falling into the bed was what kept you going. Those soft sheets enveloping you, warmth encompassing your limbs and spreading like velvet along your skin.

You sat back into the chair, and felt your eyelids dropping.

“Oy! Wake up!“

The rumbling sound of an older man rang in your ears, alerting you.

“Yes, what? What do you need?“ you quickly stood up and looked towards the man. He was probably in his late forties, with graying beard and unkept appearance.

You smelt alcohol in the air, and scrunched your nose in response. _Not good_.

“Give me a loaf of white bread.“

“Uh, I'm sorry, sir. I don't sell bread, but you can have bagels if yo-“

“What kind of bakery is this if you don't have bread!“ he cut you off, his voice louder.

“This is a confectionery and pastry store, a cookie shop, if you will.“ You said as calmly as you could, despite the irritation present in your words.

The hairs on your neck stood up as he approached the counter. You carefully eyed his every move as he put his hand on the glass above the basket holding a few unflavored bagels.

“Please don't touch the glass.“ You whispered, unsure if he heard you.

“I'm gonna touch whatever I want!“ You winced as he shouted, angry redness forming on his cheeks. You saw his eyes were red as well - he didn't have an easy life, you could tell.

It was fifteen to nine, you really didn't need any shit happening just when you were about to close the shop.

You held the phone tightly in your hands, but the man saw it and turned to bypass the only barrier between you and him.

In the corner of your vision, you saw someone else enter the shop. _Thank goodness._

“What's the problem here?“ the visitor asked, but you knew that voice.

_Oh fu - not him._

Mark stepped into the shop and looked at the man standing only a meter from you. You didn't dare look at him, watching the drunk man instead.

“Nothing.“ The man said, pursing his lips, but he was still not moving.

“Let's not complicate things.“ Mark said peacefully. “You get yourself a bagel, and go to your home.“ _If he has a home._ “Everything's going to be fine.“

He looked at you with those kind brown eyes, and you could've toppled over at the spot. But, surprisingly, you didn't. You just nodded at him, and placed two bagels into a paper bag, handing them to the drunk man.

You didn't even bother asking him to pay, since the leftovers from the shop were usually what you'd give to beggars on the street. They would be handed out either way.

To your relief, he took the bag and left the shop without a word.

A sigh escaped your lips, but then you realized Mark was still there.

Your heart tripped over itself.

“Markiplier!“

_Shit, that was the first thing that came to your mind?_ You mentally slapped yourself.

“It's alright.“ he said, just as the first time you talked to him. “That man, he didn't cause any trouble, did he?“

“No, no, nothing happened.“ your voice was trembling and you cursed silently in yourself.

“I heard he asked for bread in a not so polite way. Either way, here's for the bagels.“ you saw he was taking money out from his wallet, and you shook your head. Maybe a little too violently.

“No, no! Those would either get thrown or given to the homeless. They're really cheap to make, but it'd be a waste to throw them.“ You rambled, and he chuckled quietly.

“Well, then…“ he checked the watch on his wrist. “It's a little past your worktime, but… can I get a few of those?“ His finger pointed on the coconut chocolate cookies, and you couldn't help but smile.

“Yeah, of course.“ You said and took out the whole tray. There were only a few left, and the two of you could eat them by yourself. “You don't have to pay.“ You said quickly before he could get the wrong idea.

The butterflies in your stomach raged, making you slightly naseous as you watched him smile and take a cookie in his large, smooth hands.

“I really should've came earlier, I wouldn't want to keep you busy, I-“

“It's fine, really. I have some cleanup to do anyways, so you can eat, I don't mind.“

_This is so awkward_ , you thought as you took empty trays and threw crumbles off of them.

He finished the cookie in silence, and then asked, “What do you do with the leftovers?“

“Usually I put them in the freezer and warm them up when I need them. They're good as new, and their taste doesn't change. But when I sell a lot, it's pointless to keep only a few, so, as I said, I mostly give them away.“

“I thought you just eat them. I'd certainly do that.“

You chuckled, “Yeah, at first. After a while you get fed up with the sweets all the time, but that's why I love to experiment.“

Grabbing a cleaning cloth from behind the counter, you began wiping the surface of the glass casing in a circular motion.

The two of you enjoyed simple banter while you were removing the stains on the glass and emptying the trays. He seemed content with the coconut cookies, casually munching on them whilst your insides were turning. You were done quickly with the work, and pulled on your jacket and purse.

You felt his eyes on you when you took a filled paper bag before grabbing the keys. “For the lady nearby,“ you explained and he nodded.

Stepping towards the doors, he stopped and you turned to face him. “Wait.“ he said, and you looked at him with a confused expression. Your eyes met with his. “If I may know your name?“

A wide smile stretched on your lips, and your heart fluttered. You told him your name in a quiet, almost shy manner.

“Would you mind if I walked you home, my lady?“ If there was any bit of hesitation in his voice, it was masked with humor and that goofy, incredible face.

“Of course not, it would be an honor.“ you responded, playing along.

Locking the shop, the two of you walked side by side, into the night.


	4. Care for a Walk, My Lady?

The cold night awoke goosebumps along your skin, but the thought of having Mark beside you made everything warmer. Or more nervous. Maybe both.

He asked you so sweetly whether he could walk you home, it was impossible to resist, even though your legs wanted nothing more but to lay in bed. To be honest, you wondered if you could – or would – resist anything from that man.

The two of you walked side by side through the tight streets, which caused the turning of your butterfly-filled stomach. And yet, his presence was comforting – it was your mind that induced anxiety, and you knew nothing could be done.

“So, do you usually play games?“ he asked, averting you from you thoughts.

“Yes, but recently I don't really…“ _have enough money? And piracy is not an option?_ “... have the time to do so.“

“Ah, I see.“ he nodded, “We can all be a little busy.“

“Yeah.“ you sighed, looking at the ground.

As if to save you from a sour conversation, you noticed a homeless woman sitting on cardboard at the end of the building you were passing by. Her har was black and wet, covered by a dirty hat. She held her arms around herself, and a pang of grief cut through your heart.

She had a handful of tarot cards beside her, but you doubted she used them often.

You didn't know her name, but you've seen her many times after work, in the same position. She would give you the most gratifying smile whenever you talked to her.

“Hello.” you said to the woman, and you felt Mark smile beside you.

The woman looked drowsily towards you, but then she recogized your face. “Dear, it’s you!” she chuckled warmly, and then her gaze fell on Mark. “And who’s that handsome man you’ve brought?”

A blush formed on your cheeks. If someone heard you cursing mentally in that moment, they would never look you in the eyes again.

“A friend.” Mark said, smiling.

_Oh god yes_. That sounded so delicous you wanted to eat the words from his mouth.

“Aye, I see that smile.” she smirked, locking her dark eyes with yours. “I won’t comment, but I can see you two getting _hand in hand_.”

“That _is_ commenting.” you said, but your lips didn’t protest to what she said, stretching into a happy grin.

“I see the boy’s not protesting, eh?” _Damn that woman_.

You laughed nervously, and quickly said, “Well, _anyways_ , here’s a gift for you, as usual. I’ve packed some fruit from home, as well.”

“Not just a gift, girl, it’s what’s keeping me alive.”

She took the bag you outstretched to her, and hastily grabbed an apple from inside it. You smiled, and she responded in the sweetest manner possible. She was not a young woman, but the way her eyes sparkled – it was all you needed to keep your heart warm.

“Farewell to you.” she said, her teeth sinking into the crunchy skin of the fruit.

You waved towards her, and resumed walking with Mark.

“That was very generous of you.” he said, turning his head to face you.

You only shrugged at his words. Your eyes were plastered on the ground, analysing the asphalt and wet, dark moss beneath your feet.

An awkward silence fell between you, and your mind raced to find another topic to converse about. You were never good at talking to strangers… but then again, he wasn't exactly a stranger, was he? You knew something about him, after all.

“It's so strange to talk to a youtuber.“

He chuckled – it was a deep, rumbly sound. “And why would that be?“

“You're... well, famous.“

“I wouldn't say that, and I'm glad you didn't recognize me the first time you saw me.“

“I still stared at you.“ _I must've looked so unkept that day_.

“I'm glad for that, too.“

_What?_

You laughed, but it sounded flustered. It was more of a way to fill your loss of words instead of laughter.

For a few moments you walked in silence, and after a while, your nervousness faded. Slowly, torturously slowly – but if, by any magic, you two remained in contact, it might fade away completely.

The moon was up high in the sky, watching down upon you and Mark. It felt as if you didn't belong there, with him. Even as a friend. He was a paragon for so many people, and your mind stopped you from enjoying those quiet moments with him.

_What if he wanted you to talk? What if he was bored of you?_

“This is where I live.“ You said, nodding your head to the building next to you.

It was an old building, but a lot of people still lived in it. The paint was washed away by the rain, and the only decoration was the moss filling the cracks in the walls.

You stood on the first step of the stairs that lead to the large stone doors.

“It looks vintage.“ He casually said.

You shrugged nervously. “Yeah, it's been around for quite some time.“

“I liked this. It was relaxing, to walk in silence with you.“

“I liked it, too.“

You found yourself figdeting with your fingers, not knowing what to do.

“Could I… have your number?“ he asked.

You couldn't tell whether he was smiling or having a goofy grimace, since most of his face was obscured by darkness. Either way, you instinctively reached for your phone and gave him the number.

_I'm so awkward. I'm so weird._

Before you could say goodbye, you saw him take a step in your direction. You felt his arms circle around you in a tight hug, so comfortable you could've fallen asleep. If it weren't for your heart doing triple bacflips at the moment, you would've dozed off in a matter of seconds.

Your head rested on his chest for a long, satisfying moment, and you let your own arms touch his back, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric.

After the embrace loosened, you faintly saw him smile.

“It wouldn't be a problem if I visited you in your shop?“

“Of course not,“ you said, and then added, “I'd appreciate it, actually.“

“You're the sweetest creature I've ever met.“ He said in a quiet voice, and then said his farewells as he turned away to walk in another direction.

Your heart might've melted in the place.

As if in a trance, you walked mindlessly into the building, up the stairs, into your apartment, and then inside your room to collapse on the bed.

You hugged the pillow tightly, smiling like an idiot that you were.


	5. Cookie Assistance Force

Light seared into your eyes, waking you from deep, peaceful sleep.

It felt beautiful to be woken up by the rays of sunlight instead of the screeching sound of long nails upon the blackboard.

You felt soft fluff pressed to your back, and for a split second, you thought it was _him_.

_Meeow._

_Of course_ , you chuckled.

Your cat moved, her fur stroking your skin. She jumped over your shoulders, ending up in front of your face.

Her deep green eyes stared at you, but from the light they recieved, her pupils retracted and she looked more like a snake than a cuddly cat. Nonetheless, she touched your nose with her wet one, as if she was giving you a kiss.

A wide smile stretched on your lips. This wasn't that bad of a morning – yes, it could be better, it could be Sunday, but it wasn't. Even still, you were excited to go to work, because it was highly probable Mark would visit you.

You remembered the walk from yesterday's night. Flutters awoke in your insides, making you squeal helplessly.

He made you feel a strange concoction of feelings, and you weren't exactly sure whether you liked it more than it flustered you and made you restless.

You've been alone for most of your life, without a significant other or a friendly roomate to share your thoughts and feelings… It would be an understatement to call you an introvert. _An introvert queen of introverts_ was more like it.

You tried not to dwell on it, because you've been like this for as long as you remember, and is has become a part of you. Even if you wanted to go out under the lights of London night life, your anxiety would cripple you.

The uncomfortable, hot feeling of pressure in the pit of your stomach would form each time you were forced to speak to a stranger, or when you knew someone was watching you.

Sometimes you craved to spill your thoughts and feelings to someone, but words would crumple up in your throat and wouldn't roll off your tongue. Sometimes you desired contact, sometimes your heart would ache for a tender moment. And yet, you would hide away in fear.

Getting a cat was a blessing - if not for her gentle and nurturing nature, you would've drowned in cheap wine already.

Only a fool would be blind to Mark's attempts to befriend you, but even if that made you feel flattered and giddy, you were afraid of disappointing him with your fumbling hands and trembling voice.

Awkward was your nickname in school for a reason. You sighed, deciding not to remember those days.

* * *

 The Sun was shining bright, yet it wasn't warm. It was still necessary to wear a jacket, or a thick shirt.

_At least it isn't so dark anymore_ , Mark thought.

He was walking through the streets of London, wondering whether to go to the pastry shop or not. He walked slowly, as to have more time to consider.

Yes, he wanted to, but was it alright? Asking your permission was one thing, but what if you didn't want him to come bug you while you worked, but didn't say anything as not to hurt his feelings?

He groaned, louder than he meant to. A few people looked him strangely after that, and a wave of embarrasment washed over him.

To move from any prying eyes, or fans, he hurried in another direction. Without even thinking, he headed towards your shop, noticing only after he smelt the familiar scent of chocolate and sweet puff pastry.

_Can't turn back now, can we?_

* * *

  _Why is there so many people?_ you mentally groaned, filling a bag with pink and purple macarons and handing it out to the lady on the other side of the glass casing.

There were seven people inside the store, that was twice as much as usual, and there was not enough space for them to fit comfortably. When you were looking for a good location, size wasn't one of your worries, but now you started to regret that.

It was barely the size of your kitchen – which was very small. The back part was even smaller, only enough for a fridge, large oven and two counters.

“Two bear claws and five carrot cake cookies, please.“

“There are only two carrot cookies left, but if you'd like to wait, I could –“

“Oh, it's fine, just give me butter cookies instead. Reminds me of my childhood, you know?“

Relieved, you shoved her order in the bag and handed it to her.

And then the smell of burnt charcoal assaulted your nose. _Oh shit, not now._

Before the other customer could speak, you quickly apologized and ran to the kitchen. Noticing a cloud of gray smoke rising from the oven, you turned it off immediately, and took a thick towel to open it. A puff of hot air rushed out, making you scrunch your nose.

Carefully, you eyed the contents inside, unsure of whether you wanted to see the remains or not.

Taking a deep breath that tasted of coal and dust, you took out the baking sheet, to find out your eclairs and fudge cookies were completely parched, black as tar.

Without a thought, you threw them in the garbage can, along with the baking sheet. There was no hope left for fixing the damage.

_Why does this always happen to me?_

You rubbed your forehead, feeling overwhelmed. There were people waiting in the front of the shop, you could hear them grumbling while you felt devastated enough to sit down and sob at your failure.

“Hey, what's going on back there?“

You sniffed, “Nothing, I –“

“Do you need any help?“ a deep voice asked, and then Mark's head portruded to where you were standing.

He looked concerned, a wrinkle forming between his brows. He must've entered the shop just now. Your stomach felt warm again, and you greeted him with a tired smile.

“You're a godsend.“ You whispered, and swiftly pushed him towards the class case. “How much time do you have?“

“I'm free the whole day, why?“

_Thank goodness._ “You tend to the customers, while I fix the mess in the back. There is too many people, and I'm not accustomed to that.“ You said, relishing in the feeling of cool relief wash over you.

“Uhh, I guess that's alright.“

“You don't really have much choice.“ You smiled, taking off your pastel colored apron and giving it to him.

He took it with caution, turning it in his hands and analysing the cute details decorating the fabric. To show him you were serious, you tied the two ribbons on his back into a sweet bow and said, “If you get stuck, just tell me.“

It was obvious he wasn't exactly comfortable in the first few minutes, judging by the way his voice wasn't as smooth as when he talked to you, but after a while he got accustomed to repeating the same words over and over. _“Hello, what would you want? Hello, what's your order? Yes, here. On my way.“_

In the meantime, you took the ingredients for fudge cookies and carrot cake cookies – the eclairs could wait. The counters were filled with flour, shredded carrots, sugar and good quality cocoa powder in a matter of seconds. You worked like mad, mashing it all together and making two batches of cookies.

“So how come you're in London?“ You casually asked while throwing the carrots in with the eggs and flour.

“Well, I'm here for Eurogamer, but I'll be staying a little longer. You know, like a small vacation.“

“Sounds nice. There's a lot to see here – you should go visit the Kew Gardens or the Tower of London. It's said Anne Boleyn haunts the place. Not that I believe in it, but imagine the thrill.“

It suddenly felt good to talk, but you realized you were rambling, and you slumped your shoulders awkwardly while putting the baking sheet into the oven. “I'm sorry if I talk too much.“

He chuckled, a warm tone entering his voice. “I'm your CAF, so even if you did, I wouldn't mind.“

“You're my _what_?“

“CAF – Cookie Assistance Force.“ He sounded dead-serious, but after turning around to face him, you saw a goofy grin on his face.

“Be thankful no one heard you, you doofus.“ You said jokingly, joining him behind the counter.

He looked you in the eye, pouting his lips and crossing his arms as if he was hurt, but a smile quickly overtook him.

You took out two empty trays, and felt his elbow touching yours. It was almost a comfortable feeling, so warm, and yet so unfamiliar to you.

The cookies you baked and displayed in the casing were gone quickly, as were the other pastries. There was a lot of work to be done, and a lot of people to serve, but with Mark, everything went faster and nine o'clock came just like that.

Mark helped you clean the counter, wiping the glass and emptying the trays.

“It's so much easier with a little help around.“ You said quietly, putting on your jacket and grabbing the keys.

“Yeah, it was kinda fun.“ He smirked, rubbing his belly. “And I got to steal a cookie or two.“

“Then that's your paycheck.“ You laughed, and felt flutters in your stomach when he did the same.

After you exited and locked the shop, you stood there for a moment, in front of the doors, looking at each other.

You knew he would walk you home again tonight. And you loved every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big hugs to all of you reading this!!


	6. Sweet Nugget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update, but here's a slightly longer chapter for compensation!!

“Yeah, I do like her-“

“Just ask her, then!“ Jack said, frustration evident in his voice. He looked at Mark with pursed lips, “Go out, go anywhere, just go!“

“You wound me, Jack.“ Mark joked, “I thought _Septiplier_ was a thing.“

“If you don't do as I said, it will be a thing, and you won't like it!“

Mark chuckled and shook his head before turning his gaze back to the laptop in their hotel room, so he could finish editing videos.

Editing was usually quite demanding, but now it was becoming even more of a challenge as his mind was constantly all over the place. There was a certain warmth he felt only when he was in that pastry store, around the generous baker. Working for her seemed like an aspiration, learning from her dedication and kindness.  And the way she carried herself with such humble, but clever mind...

He sighed and resumed editing.

“Come on, man.“ Jack groaned. “I know you're thinking about her.“

“No, I'm not.“ _Dammit._

“Message her!“ he persisted, “What are you gonna do? Drool over the smell of her cookies?“

“Why are you so wound up about this? It ain't your problem.“

Jack stood up and walked towards where Mark sat with the laptop.  “Well, it _is_ 'cause you're my damn friend and I hate seeing you frustrated.“

“Aww, I love you too.“ Mark cooed with a smile.

“An' I'm also annoyed with your helpless arse.“

The Irish man watched for a moment at the screen, and then saw Mark's phone on the end of the table. An idea came to his mind.

Subtly, he turned around so his friend couldn't see the phone, and snatched it, hiding it in his long sleeve. It wasn t morally right, but it _was_ necessary. If it helped bring together two weirdos, a little sinning was allowed, right?

He sat in the couch and opened the messages on the phone. When he found your name, he promptly clicked on it, analysing your picture in the top left corner. He almost burst into laughter when he read the nickname under which you were saved on the phone.

Not wanting to read the usual banter you and Mark shared, he just typed a single message:

**_Mark_ ** _: Hey, I thought maybe we could go to dinner together?_

He leaned back an waited for the reply, smirking. It took less than a minute before the phone lit up.

**_Sweet Nugget_ ** _: I like the idea, where do you fancy going?_

“I'm suggesting you take the lass to a nice restaurant, she must have a good taste.“ He said casually, looking at the screen. Mark turned around, and Jack added before his friend protested, “Or something more romantic for your _sweet nugget_.“

“ _What?!_ “

* * *

 

The sun was slowly setting behind white clouds, and a cool breeze started to blow.

You tightened the cardigan around yourself while walking, hoping you didn't look underdressed… or overdressed. _Dammit._ How were you supposted to know? It was a rarity for you to go to a fancy restaurant such as the one Mark and you agreed on visiting.

For a whole hour you pondered aimslessly in front of your wardrobe, imagining yourself in a dress, leather pants, comfy flannel or a shirt with a quirky print. And yet, nothing satisfied you. In the end you decided to go with your gut, adorned with your favourite colors and comfortable clothes.

Both anxiety and excitement filled you as you saw him stand near the entrance of the restaurant. He wore a dark flannel which made him look both casual _and_ refined, and you were thankful he wasn't overthinking it with the clothes.

Mark turned his face and you felt his eyes gaze upon you as you approached him. Your legs suddenly turned wobbly and you hoped you wouldn't trip over your own feet.

_Why does his smile do that to me?_

Your stomach felt like it was doing gymnastics inside your body, and through all the years of enduring such sensations of fear and nervousness, you still weren't used to anxiety-induced nausea.

Taking a deep breath and forcing a smile back at him, you worded a small “Hello.“

“Look, our outfits are matching!“ he said, grinning.

“Is that a bad thing?“

“No,“ he chuckled, “it's cute. As are you.“

“Oh.“ You blushed, feeling warmth race to your cheeks. “Thank you.“

He winked in response, and motioned to the doors of the restaurant. “Shall we?“

You nodded, and nearly squealed when he held the doors for you. Sheepishly, you went inside and carefully analysed the place. The atmosphere was…  intimate - the lights were dim, but the light bulbs resembled jewels and diamonds on the cieling. Other than that, it looked cozy – with lush green plants decorating corners, and curtains in colors of beige and white.

“Looks fancy.“ You commented, noticing the tables made from dark, polished wood.

“I thought you might want to visit a place where they… know how to cook.“ he said as you walked to a table nearby, under a window.

A chuckle escaped through your lips. “True.“ _KFC is cheaper, though. And less intimate._

For a moment you wondered whether to sit beside him or in front of him, but then you opted for the latter. “Do _you_ know how to cook?“ you asked to fill any potential silence.

“I actually just started. A few months ago. Not talented such as yourself, of course, but I try not to eat chinese takeout every day.“

Instead of laughter, you produced something that was a small, girly giggle. You were quick to cover your mouth with both hands as embarrasment rolled down your body, but his lips stretched into such an innocent smile, it made you far more comfortable.

“I'm not used to compliments.“  you quickly said to defend what little of your seriousness you had left in yourself. You wished you could tell him you weren't usually this childish, but it was hard not to be, judging by his grinning lips.

“Well, you should be.“ he chuckled.

To your gratitude, the waitress came to your table, and flashed all her teeth in a single smile as a greeting. “Hello, how may we serve you today?“

You were both quick with the orders, which the lady scibbled down into a tiny notebook, and then went on her way. You cursed yourself for noticing how her slim figure moved with grace inbetween tables, taking dirty plates and manuevering them in each hand. _I would break those plates in a matter of seconds._

Batting away such thoughts, you turned your attention to Mark. _Bad idea._ Just as you turned to look in his eyes, he did the same, and you ended up awkwardly locking your eyes together. But maybe, just maybe, it was awkward only to you.

His eyes glistened with something you hadn't seen before, and you had no idea what it was. Was he happy to be here? He slightly leaned towards you, unconsciously giving you an opportunity to look at him in detail. You analysed his face, the narrow shape of his eyes, dark like melted chocolate, and the way ruffled his hair was almost long enough to cover them.

“Is this bothering you?“ you asked quietly. “I can be a little strange, at times.“

“Not at all.“ He closed his eyes and took a breath. “You are incredibly relaxing.“

_Wish I could say the same._

Suddenly, the air between you changed, as if it was flowing with a different current. The chest cavity holding your heart felt too small, and one part of you wanted to run, to escape and hide inside tall walls with none other but your cat… and yet you sat there, in front of him, watching attentively. Your hands rested on the table, fingers fidgeting and tugging at the cuticles.

_What are you even doing here?_

“Mark.“ You called out his name in a whisper, and his eyes cought yours immediately. “I don't feel very well.“

“Are you alright, do you need help? We can –“

“I'm nervous. In most situations. Especially in front of people.“ It felt as if you were spitting the words out, but he stood still and listened.

“Are you nervous now?“

“Yes.“

“I understand. I really do, but I wish you could feel comfortable, because I do, and I enjoy your company.“

You nodded slightly before your gaze fell to the floor. “I wish it as well, but it takes time, and most people don't have the patience. Hence, I am alone and deeply attached to any kind of animal.“

“I have time, and I'm willing to spend it with you. If you want, that is.“

A smile crept up your lips, a small one, but it was there nonetheless. You wanted to believe him. “I think I'd love that.“

His eyes lit up, and he covered your hand with his, inducing strange impulses running down your whole arm. Your chest tightened at the sight of how big they were compared to yours.

“I know. I'll go tell the waitress to wrap our orders so we can eat out. Want to go somewhere more soothing? A park?“

_Maybe this won't end up so bad after all._

* * *

 

The two of you walked slowly, listening to the sound of crickets and cars driving in the distance.

It was dark, the moon shined bright in the sky, uncovered between clouds. If you were alone, it would've been eery to walk through an old street at night, but suprisingly, you weren't. You felt Mark's warmth trail to your own skin.

You approached a wooden bench and sat there, while he was busy opening carton boxes where your food was stored.

“Are you alright with eating out?“ He carefully asked, handing the box towards you.

“It's fine with you here.“ You felt him smile as you dug into your food.

It was a little less warm than in the restaurant, but it tasted good. After so many hours surrounded by sweet smells of pastries, it felt amazing to finally get a sniff of something savory.

“I won't tell anyone.“ He mentioned, looking at you.

“It's not a big secret, just the way it is.“ You stood up and threw the empty box into the thrash can.

“I'm glad you told me.“

“I'm glad, as well.“

Strangely, you found yourselves standing in front of one another. You nearly turned around to escape his gaze, but then your breath stopped for a moment as he took a step closer. Nothing registered in your brain, just the feeling of his hand suddenly resting on the back of your neck.

Your eyes pulled up to catch his gaze, and then you felt his lips fall onto yours, softly, as if you were about to move away. But you didn't. Instead, you allowed your hands to touch his arms and shoulders as you stood on your toes to harden the kiss.

“Walk me home?“ you whispered when your lips parted.

He smiled, and responded with another kiss.


	7. Taste of Delight

There was a strange feeling in your head, like a mixture of excitement, joy… and pride. It happened. He _kissed_ you. And you kissed _him_ back, not interrupted by your thoughts screaming how the moment could've turned sour any second.

By the time you came home, the moon was already high in the sky. Your cat meowed at you lovingly, rubbing her tail against your leg. You picked her up and hugged her, sqealing with your nose pressed to her soft fur. She purred at your hand scratching her between the ears.

“I know it sounds unbelievable, but it happened!“ You said and let go of the cat, who followed you to the bedroom.

“Was it too soon?“

The cat answered with a jump on the warm radiator beneath the window, curled her tail around herself and stared outside onto the dark streets. _Simple life is the best life_ , you thought.

You threw yourself on the bed, not bothering to remove your clothes. There was a moment of silence in the room, your eyes gazed at an invisible point on the ceiling. Your heart was still beating fast, you wished it could be ordered to slow down and relax. It would make things so much easier.

You wished to hear his voice again, as if he didn't whisper his goodbye just moments ago. It felt immature to think such thoughts, isn't romance something that stopped existing in the modern world?

A sigh escaped your lips. _Hell, I'm not sixteen anymore!_

You furiosly turned to your hip and grabbed the phone. Instictively, you clicked on his name and started writing a message. _But what?_ You thought for a few long seconds whether to ask something about the evening you spent together, or to suggest going out again the following day.

Inviting him to your apartment seemed a desirable idea. It was impossible not to think about all the _possibilities_ , the _things_ you could do together. You blushed involuntarily at yourself. Going from a chaste kiss to daydreaming about steamy situations went too fast at the moment, so you tried to pull your mind out of the gutter.

“A cup of tea, perhaps?“ you wondered aloud. “Nothing too intense. I could invite him in for a warm drink.“

From the corner of your eye, you could see the cat moved her head to glare at you. _Or vodka_ , her expression seemed to say.

You almost decided to do so, but then you remembered you would have to clean the apartment, and you had no energy for dusting the shelves and sweeping the floor. Living alone allowed the luxury of leaving clothes and shoes and food wherever you pleased.

Apart from that, he probably owns a living room bigger than your whole flat. It would be embarassing to show him you live in a small, crowded space.

And what if he denies going out with you? He's a youtuber, two videos a day must be challenging for him… What if he has no time for you anymore?

Realizing you were worrying too much, you cursed in your mind and took the phone, this time more decisive.

**See you in the shop tomorrow?** you wrote and sent the message.

* * *

Yellow and orange leaves flew by the pasticceria, dancing with the wind. The air was crisp and fresh.  _Mmm, apple fritters would be perfect for the season_ , you thought. _Or caramel apples. Or cinnamon rolls._

Ideas about new sweets excited you – there was so much you could experiment with, from substituting apple cider for milk in fritters, to making upside down pumpkin pies. Your stomach growled at the thought of food, and you hurried inside the shop to chow down on an oat bar.

You didn't even have enough time to transfer cold cookie batter into the oven before the golden bell rang, and the front doors opened.

Quickly turning around, warmth washed over you as you saw Mark enter inside. His hair was ruffled, as usual, and a smile spread on his lips.

You were unsure of how to react, whether you should kiss him or wave or simply smile in greeting. Thankfully, he decided for you, and in three long strides, he was standing in front of you, eyes glistening. You stared expectantly up at him for a second before he pressed his lips gently upon yours. It was short, yet sweet.

“Mind having me here for the day?“ he asked, resting his hands on your shoulders.

You pretended to think about it, pursing your lips. And then, an idea came to your mind.

“I've been thinking about trying out some new recipes.“

“Oh? Which ones?“

“Autumn themed. But there's more, I thought maybe… we could lock the shop.“ You suggested quietly, almost hesitantly. You kept your eyes glued on his, analysing his expression.

He thought for half a second, and then hurried to the display case to grab the keys and lock the doors. You saw a grin showing on his face, and smiled yourself.

_What have you gotten yourself into?_

On his way back to you, you noticed he was walking somehow quicker, and when he was inside your arm span, he placed his hands on your hips and picked you up on the counter. You didn't have enough time to gasp, his lips caught yours before you could do so.

You felt his tongue curl around yours, sweet and hard. The kiss lasted long, and tasted of delight as you allowed your hands to roam absent-mindedly inside his shirt. You traced the muscles on his chest, feeling the soft, warm skin.

He moaned, causing tingles up and down your spine. He held your hips steadily, and didn't dare move his hands as not to test the boundaries. You felt a little guilty and removed your hands from under his shirt.

“Getting ahead of myself, aren't I?“ you whispered, loooking up at him. “I don't have a lot of experience – “

“Shh, it's alright.“ He cooed, smiling. “You can do whatever you want with me.“ His voice lowered, and your stomach tightened. If you were not sitting on the counter, you would've toppled on top of your own legs.

“We should probably get cooking.“ You said, and regretted it immediately. You had a handsome, clearly interested man in front of you, and you wanted to go _cooking?_  You shook your head. “Scratch that. I can cook tomorrow.“

“I wouldn't like to keep you from your job…“ he drowsily said, but you were quick to shut him up with your lips catching his.

“Strange… because I thought the same.“ you murmured.

You reached up to gingerly touch his throat, moving your fingers over his jaw. As soon as you felt how much your hands were trembling, you placed them on his thick hair, hoping he wouldn't notice. He broke the kiss and you felt his mouth ghost over your collarbone.

“Your heart is racing.“

_No shit._ You chuckled and tried to brush it off.

Suddenly, you heard a knocking sound on the doors. Mark froze, and locked his eyes with yours. You shook your head and remained quiet. It couldn't be anyone important. _Only a customer who'll come visit tomorrow either way_ , you thought.

A second later, whoever was outside tried to open the shop, making a loud sound. For a long, tense moment, you didn't dare move.

“It doesn't matter.“ You whispered to him when the danger passed.

“Wonder what would've happened if we didn't lock the doors.“

You placed both hands on your hips. “What, we weren't doing anything… _innapropriate_.“

He laughed and his brown eyes glistened again. “Maybe we _should_ get cooking. Before we _do_ something innapropriate. I'm already feeling guilty for keeping you away from your talent.“

Faking a groan, you hopped off the counter and opened the fridge. You took out a halved pumpkin and a bowl of cored apples, glaring at him. “You happy?“

He grinned goofily in response, showing teeth.

“You know… it would be great if we could play games together.“

“Oh, so you think baking isn't interesting enough?“ you jokingly asked.

“No, no, I didn't mean –“

_Oh, he's so cute._ “I know, I know. We can work something out.“

He nodded, relieved. You turned around to turn on the oven, when you felt his lips on your neck.

* * *

The door bell rang.

You frowned. It was night, and you rarely got visitors. Smoothing your hair and getting up from the couch, you quietly tiptoed towards the doors.  Through the spyhole, you saw a man dressed in a formal jacket holding papers in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly opened the doors.

“Good evening, miss. You are the owner of the pastry shop down the street, yes?“ the man spoke before you got a chance to greet him.

“Uhh, yes. Yes, I am.“

He glanced down to one of his papers and then looked back at you. “There seems to be a problem with the maintenance of the shop. I was sent to the place itself to inform you that by the start of the next month, you are expected to close the shop. Since it was locked and empty, I had no other choice but to come here.“

“What?“ You tried not to shout. “I have the licence, the certificates! I've been working there for over a year!“

“I'm sorry, miss. The details are written on the papers, if you could just sign your name here, please.“

You grabbed the pen from his hand and scribbled your initials angrily. Taking the other papers the man handed out to you, you turned around and shut the door. The whole neighbourhood must've heard it.

_Fuck them. Fuck it all._

You almost growled and helplessly rested your head on the door.


	8. Downhearted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to confess I'm not satisfied with my writing, and it takes too long, so I apologize for not posting in almost two weeks and for any mistakes that can be found. Anyways, here's a slightly more pessimistic chapter, but trust me, it'll pay off ;)

Heavy feelings hung on your shoulders, cold like steel, forcing tears to your eyes.  It was too much to bear, the last time you hurt this much felt like a lifetime ago. Moments of happiness you shared with Mark seemed like nothing, as if it never mattered. As if life was fooling with you, punishing you for your naivety in trusting that you could keep the sensation of joy.

You ignored the faint buzzing of your phone, the small lamp lighting up in the darkness. Whoever called shouldn't know about how much you were hurting.

Pushing yourself from the floor, you gripped the windowsill and stared down at the street. People walked in the rain, their determined footsteps annoying you. Your eyes burned, you didn't bother wiping them. The Sun outside was hidden beneath dark clouds, casting a shadow over the city. It was morning already. Or was it noon? Afternoon?

The bakery was the only thing keeping you going. It became a vital part of your life, the only thing you thought you could succeed with. Being the owner of a small, charming pastry shop, baking cookies all day long and greeting each customer with a smile… a simple life.

Even on the days depression and loneliness took a toll on you, when you had no will to get out of bed, you still mustered the courage to stay focused, so that once you returned home, the small feeling of satisfaction of a job well done would pass through your bones.

Clinging to happiness felt disgusting now. The thought of Mark laughing with you made your chest tighten, palms pressing hard at your temples. It was meaningless. Every moment of joy felt like it was a trap. A trap in which you so willingly stepped into.

Your stomach was rumbling, inducing a dull pain in your abdomen. Your body was begging for nourishment, but your mind was repulsed by the idea. Nothing could fix this. No amount of comfort food or friendly pep talk could help erase this moment.

It was written, certified, signed. The bakery was to be closed by the end of the month, so the business was finished and forgotten by the beginning of the next one.

Where will you be then, without a job and without any connections?

You gazed upon two women on the street. They were laughing, shaking their shoulders and playfully touching each other's arm, movements so natural and relaxed. Have you ever felt such openness?

Anxious pressure and pain were your only friends.

It tore through your body, both burning and freezing, intense as lightning. You felt as if you could scream, your hand smashed through the lamp on your nightstand. Pain. Hurting. As if a blade had cut your chest open.

Your vision was dark, you heard glass fall to the wooden floor.

Deep, dark feelings of isolation filled you, leaving only emptiness behind.

* * *

 Night fell.

Mark was sitting on the couch of his hotel room, his brows furrowed with worry. Why weren't you responding to his calls? Since he has kissed you, you never missed any of his messages and calls.

 _I went too far_ , he thought, remembering the small rendezveous you shared inside the bakery. _I was too quick, and she needed patience._

Jack wasn't here now to offer guidance, while Mark felt helpless. Should he tell you he was leaving next week?

_What if this was just an adventure for her?_

_No, she's not like that. She must be busy._

_What if someone had robbed her?_

_You're crazy._

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. His head hurt, both from worry and contemplation. Strange ideas roamed in his mind, mixed feelings of happiness and the _need_ for your soft touch, your gentle nature.

Was he too quick to love?

Giving himself no time to change his mind, he got up and took his jacket. Something was wrong, he _felt_ it. It concerned him, bothered him like a sharp thorn embedded in his finger.

In a matter of seconds, he was out on the street, walking with haste towards your apartment. Cold air prickled his eyes, but he brushed it off.

Seeing McDonald's was still open, he took a turn and ordered a whole bag. If you were mad at him, he could at least leave warm hamburgers at your doorstep. With a bag full of burgers and french fries and nuggets, he kept going, damning himself for not taking the metro.

He stopped abruptly in front of the old, vintage building you were living in. Uncomfortable nervousness hit him like a slap. What was he doing? He squeezed his eyes shut. What if you didn't want him here? What if he was exposing your privacy?

_No._

Cautiously, he entered inside and relished in the absence of blowing wind. He was unsure on which floor you lived, so he inspected, feeling like an explorer. Once he found your name written on the doors, he felt his heart skip a beat.

For a short moment, he tried listening, gathering any kind of information. When he heard nothing, he pressed the doorbell before he could decide to turn around and run away.

Silence.

He pressed again, longer this time. He hoped you would accept his late-night visit and wouldn't get the wrong idea. He suddenly felt like a creeper, and started to turn on his heel.

And the doors opened. Slowly, drowsily. He tensed.

Your eyes were only half-opened, and your skin looked drained. He noticed your hair was messier than the usual quirky style you mostly wore.

He didn't know what to say, and you were too tired to think. Silence stretched between you, awkward as you were standing there in your pajamas, completely depleted of energy, and he was confusedly eyeing you, holding a large bag spreading seductive smells.

The only sound was your stomach suddenly letting out a loud, deep rumble. You swore you felt it vibrate through your intestines. Your cheeks flushed as you came to your senses, and realized it was Mark who stood in front of you.

He must think you're crazy.

“Look, I know you might think I'm crazy,“ he began, “but I just felt too worried to ignore the fact you didn't pick up any calls. I thought I could - “

“Come in.“ You said before he could finish, closing the doors behind him.

He analyzed the surroundings, and left the bag on the coffee table in front of the couch he sat on. It was filled with small, soft pillows inviting him to relax and sit back, but first he wanted to know what was going on in your life and why you were acting strange.

You came from the kitchen carrying two glasses of orange juice, and then sat beside him. You cursed at your stomach rumbling again. Carefully, you picked up the glass and took a sip. It was the first thing you brought to your lips the whole day.

“Have you eaten anything?“

“I… no, I haven't.“

His eyes softened as he looked at you, but you saw a deep crease form on his forehead. He whispered your name slowly, barely audible.

“What happened?“

Time stopped when your eyes locked. “You came here, for me.“

“What?“

“You care.“ You whispered, afraid he'd reject the words.

His hands were clasped in his lap, gaze falling down to the floor.

“I do.“

You closed your eyes. Pain shifted inside you, and you covered your eyes hoping tears wouldn't claim you. Not now. _Please not now._

“You should leave.“ You said, damning the way your voice broke. “I don't want you to share my misery.“

You knew you couldn't keep him away. You knew he wouldn't go away, even if a small part of you wanted him to do so. Before you could get up, he touched your arm, gently as not to intimidate you.

“I see something's wrong, and it hurts you. You can't expect me to ignore it, and it's my choice if I wish to emphathize.“

He placed his hand on your shoulder, and gingerly pulled you to his chest. He didn't ask any questions, he didn't comment on the way your eyes were red, or your hair tousled. For a long moment, the only thing you felt was the warmth radiating from his body, and the vibrations his heart made.

You wrapped your hands around him, and decided not to speak. There will be plenty of time to confess that the loss of your bakery is what will throw you off the ledge in the end.

“We're going to fix this,“ he said, his voice low and deep.

You wished you could believe him, you wished you could embrace him wholeheartedly, without the feeling of hesitation following you around. He kissed the top of your head, and reached towards the McDonald's bag with one hand, hugging you with the other.

“But first, you need some fuel. You choose: nuggets or hamburgers?“

You couldn't help but smile, looking up at his dark, glistening eyes. “Why not both?“


	9. Comfortable Morning

The heady smell of roasted bacon flew into the room, right into your nose, waking you up from peaceful sleep. It was a comforting aroma, mouthwatering at the very least. You took a deep breath – if only sniffing could keep you fed.

Slowly coming to your senses, you realized you were warm, and your head didn't feel as heavy as it did most mornings. Soft blankets snuggly encircled your body, someone must have tucked you in.

Uncomfortable heat came to your face, and you knew a deep blush would form quickly.

_Mark. Damn._

Your hands immediately covered your cheeks, but you couldn't help but giggle at the thought. It was so utterly sweet, you swore you could feel a cavity claiming your molars.

The sound of the oven bumping as it closed pulled you from your thoughts. Was he still in your apartment? Both butterflies and anxiety mixed in your stomach, you couldn't decipher which one was more prominent.

“Mark?“ You decided to call for him, hoping he would hear your still groggy voice behind the closed bedroom doors.

Not a second later, you heard knocking on the wood. A wide smile spread on your face. “Come in.“

And so he did, his ruffled head portruding into the room. You noticed he wore the same clothing as the night before, so he must have been with you the whole time. His smiling eyes stared into yours, and you felt your chest tighten at that strange contact. It was so unfamilliar, but so very welcome in your life.

With his leg, he pushed the door, and then your gaze fell on what was in his hands. Two plates, both carrying toasted bread, melted cheese, and a few crispy-looking slices of bacon.

“I thought I could at least somehow repay you for letting me stay here for the night.“ He said, waiting for you to sit on the bed before giving the plate. “I really hope you like bacon.“

You chuckled, and thanked him silently as you took the food, not trusting your voice since it was swallowed by sudden bashfulness. Heat coursed through your veins, from your toes to the top of your head, and back to the tingling vortex of your stomach.

“Can I sit on the bed?“ He innocently asked, and you grinned at him.

“Well, the bed is big enough for both of us, so you may.“

“And what if it wasn't?“

You looked him in the eyes, and patted the spot beside yourself, where another pillow had lain. “I'd still invite you.“ A sulty note tinted your voice without your permission, and you felt him smirk as he sat down on the covers. Your cheeks reddened.

“You're blushing.“

“No, I'm not.“ you said, pursing your lips jokingly.

He responded with a deep chuckle, enthralling you with the sound. His voice was delicious.

“I'm sorry for ignoring you these days, I know I shouldn't have.“ you said, pulling your mind out of the gutter.

“Maybe I shouldn't have bothered you… I don't know what I was doing - it was late.“

You smiled. “I'm glad you did. I wasn't really myself yesterday, I don't know what could've happened - “

“What do you mean?“

You took a deep breath. This wasn't the time for depressive rambling, why did you even mention anything? In silence, your gaze fell on the full plate, to which your stomach retorted with a loud, vibrating grumble.

“Eat now, we're going to talk later.“ He said, and you sighed in relief, hoping he wouldn't notice.

You listened, and took a bite of the bacon sandwich. It was warm, and not at all as greasy as you feared it would be. The cheese looked heavenly, melted to perfection, strings pulling apart as you broke the toast in half with an enchanting _crunch_.

A soft _mmm_ fell through your lips involuntarily. “This is amazing!“

It was now his turn to blush, and you felt pride for managing that. Setting the plate at the nightstand, you turned to see his cheeks red, dark eyes squinting with a smile. The heart inside your chest tightened, skipping a beat. He was gorgeous.

“You're cute when you blush.“ _Shit, I said that outloud?_

He giggled. Giggled! You laughed, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. Butterflies roamed free, circling, dancing.

Once you opened them, you saw his face close to yours, feeling his hot breath tickling your soft lips. He kissed you then, and you hushed your anxious mind with all the might you possessed. You deserve to enjoy this moment, this _peace_ that he offered you.

Your hand gingerly touched his cheek, prickly with stubble. He smiled into the kiss, and you felt your tongues touch, swirling together. Heat rose to your face after you remembered you were still in your pajamas, but you pushed back those thoughts. His arms circled around you, hands holding your back protectively.

You smirked as your lips parted, a wave of courage washing over you. Holding his shoulders, you pushed him down to the bed, and pulled yourself on top of him. For a second you asked yourself what you were doing, but Mark interrupted your thoughts with his hand reaching for the back of your neck.

He pulled you in for a quick kiss. “I see you're getting comfortable.“

“Is that a problem?“ you asked, looking at him lying beneath you.

_I'm not wearing a bra. Fuck._

You coughed nervously, and he took notice.

“I don't want to rush you. Into anything.“

“And what is _anything_?“

“You know what.“ His voice lowered, causing tingles across your skin.

“Mark…“ you almost whined.

“What?“

“What if I'm too nervous for –“

Cutting you off, he kissed your throat, eliciting a soft moan. You didn't know kisses could twist your thoughts in such a sensual way. His hands slipped under the loose shirt you wore to bed, it took effort not to tense at the sensation of his warm hands gliding over your skin.

“Could you love me?“ You asked, not bothering to question yourself from where those words came. It mattered to you. Did it matter to him?

“How couldn't I?“

You smiled, your eyes locking with his. “I like that answer.“

“I'm glad.“

“I'm still sitting on top of you.“ You said matter-of-factly, your lips curving into a smile.

“Might wanna change that.“

“What are you suggesting?“

You blinked, and his hands took hold of you and turned you over. You landed on top of the soft sheets, seeing him hold himself over you. Heat pooled in your stomach.

“One condition.“

“What?“

“We shouldn't wake the cat.“


	10. Best Served With Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER: lots of blushing and cringing because I'm hopeless :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took much longer to write than I intended, I just hope it was worth the wait, and please excuse any mistakes that I made! Sooo, here you go!

Your heart was beating fast. Faster than you thought was possible. And at the same time, strangely enough, everything felt right – you feared this moment would be too much for you, and yet his lips on your neck burnt away the worries.

He held himself over you, the warmth from his body trailing down onto you. Your hands softly caressed his shoulders, neck, his cheeks that reddened from the heat.

You followed his gaze as it fell to the buttons of your nightshirt.

“May I?“ He whispered into your ear, you felt the vibrations his voice made.

You nodded, fighting back self-conscious thoughts. He started unbuttoning it, and that was when your mind assaulted you. _What if I am too plump? Shit. Maybe I should've exercised._  

“I know what you're thinking.“ He said, dipping his head to kiss your sternum.

“ _I_ think you don't.“ You chuckled after a shiver went down your spine.

With a smile, he parted the shirt to only expose the skin between your breasts, ghosting over your chest. It was so gentle, his lips barely touching you, but it was enough to send tingles deep into your bones.

You cursed yourself for being so sensitive, but he seemed to enjoy it. “It sounds as if you're purring.“

Heat rose to your cheeks. “I didn't know I was – “

“I love it.“

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, you felt him trail lower, over your navel, and even lower, to finally kiss the place where your sleeping pants lay.

“You have cute pyjamas.“

“It's surprisingly nice being awkward with you.“

“Baby, I'm glad.“

You smiled at the remark, and then he pulled himself up, and parted the shirt. Your eyes closed the second you felt him cup your breast. Softly, he passed his thumb over the nipple, making you bite back a moan. He took the other nipple in his mouth, and _oh goodness_ you had to resist arching your back.

His tongue swirled around it, warm and gentle. It was suddenly hard to breathe, so you put a hand on his shoulder, making him stop and look up at you with inquisitive eyes.

“Don't you think you're a little… overdressed?“ You said, your voice trembling.

“You're probably right.“ He smiled, immediately grabbing the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Better?“

You nodded, but only took a glimpse of his chest, fearing it would be impolite to stare at his body. Noticing he had sculpted muscles made your cheeks redden, so you opted to look at his shoulders instead.

Once again, his head dipped down and kissed the delicate skin under your breast. He slowly pulled down your pants, as if he was waiting for you to ask him to stop. Instead, you pushed your hips up to help get the garment off.

His hand trailed between your thighs, touching the skin that was covered for so long. He pressed his thumb lightly over your panties, and your chest tightened at the sensation.

Bloody hell.

He looked up at you to see your expression, a satisfied smirk on pastered on his lips. This time, he rubbed the whole area, feeling the moisture before he pulled the panties down as well.

You inhaled sharply, grabbing a small pillow beside you and pressing it to your chest when you felt Mark's tongue on your clitoris.  The contrast between his rough tongue and soft motions almost made you pant with desire. He lazily dragged it up and down, brought his fingers to part your lips.

His finger stroked the sensitive area around your entrance, slick and wet. Your heart sped up, even though you'd rather it didn't.

“May I?“ He asked, pulling his hand up for you to see.

Otherwise, you'd laugh at the scene, but being there, with him betwen your legs… _Maker…_

“Aren't you tired?“

“Of you?“

“Yeah…“

“Never.“ He smiled, planting a kiss upon your solar plexus. Your heart fluttered.

He slowly pushed his finger inside you, making you hold your breath as you it filled you. A part of you wanted to giggle, but the other part was so focused on the sensation, you losed yourself in the feeling.

He pushed it further, finding your sweet spot with ease, and rubbed it with the tip of his finger inside you. A silent gasp escaped your mouth, your back arching.

“Can I – “ You started, but your voice failed you as he dragged his finger halfway out, and then slowly back in to arch it towards your g-spot.

_Actions, not words_ , you thought, and reached with your trembling hand towards his pants, managing to touch his crotch for a goddamn split second.

“Do you want me to,“ you coughed, “you know?“

He raised his eyebrow, and then realized your fingers were only a centimeter away from him. “I had in mind to focus on my _lady_ , actually.“

“Oh. And now I'm blushing again… As if I weren't red enough.“

You shivered as he took his finger out of you, almost moaning at the loss of contact.

“Hey, Mark…” you rasped between breaths.

“Mmm, baby?” He murmured, flicking his tongue and pushing one finger, and then adding another. He stretched you, but it felt better than you could have imagined.

“I’ve never… This feels - oh god…” _Shit, what were you trying to say?_   The feeling of his fingers inside you, stimulating you, made you lose your mind. It was only a moment before your breaths became shallow and quick, and your head rolled back as a wave of pleasure overwhelmed you.

You didn’t even notice you grabbed Mark’s wrist, realizing this only after you came back to your senses. You wanted to apologize, but he hushed you with a kiss on your throat.

He quickly undressed himself, and you couldn’t help but notice his bulge standing out. You wantonly reached out to stroke him, and it was his turn to gasp as your cool hands tenderly touched his hot skin.

Your hand barely encircled him, making your cheeks burn. Watching him closely, you rubbed the entirety of him, hearing him growl for a second. You smirked and quickened your movements, but not for long. He sharply inhaled and grabbed your wrist to stop you.

Instead, he positioned himself on top of you, taking one of your breasts in his palm, ghosting over the other with his thumb. His eyes locked with yours when the tip of him aligned with you. After he saw your approval, he pushed achingly slowly into you,  stretching your walls that unwillingly clenched around his girth.

He instinctively took your hand into his, your fingers intertwined as he filled you. You rocked your hips against his, feeling pleasure claiming your body.

“Is this alright?” He asked after he stopped for a moment, entirely filling you.

You nodded, squeezing his hand as he kissed you before lazily pulling out of you, and then pushing in again.

His lips grazed yours, your tongues dancing together in tune with your bodies.

It felt as if you were about to explode, his slow movements were dettering, but they only made the desire inside you grow. You moaned, reaching with your free hand to touch his back. This time, he almost pulled out all the way, but then filled you once more.

He sped up his pace, his eyes never leaving yours. His free hand tangled in your hair, his face close to you. His breath was hot and breathing ragged as he lost himself inside you, you noticed his movements became more frantic, and so did yours.

You gasped as you felt him push deep and hard, his eyes squeezed shut. The sensation of him pulsing inside your walls tipped you over the edge. White light covered your eyes, and the only thing you were left aware of was his head resting beside yours.

A moment passed, a long, sweaty one. You felt Mark’s lips on your cheek.

“You're not leaving?“ you asked as he got out of the bed to completely shut the blinds on the windows, making the room dark as night.

“Do you want me to?“

“I'd love if you stayed with me.“ You whispered, trembling slightly.

He chuckled, making your heart flutter. Silently, he got on the bed behind you, and circled his arms around your body.

The thoughts of losing your bakery entered your mind, dark and assertive. The reality of your future life almost made you panic, and yet, as you felt Mark's heartbeat, his warm skin against your back… everything felt safe, safer than ever.


	11. Not an Impasse

Your internal clock was very confused once you had woken up –the Moon was shining into your room, casting a blue light over you and Mark's dark, messy hair.

His eyes were closed tightly in sleep, and one of his arms was lazily laying around your waist. He seemed like a puppy, innocently dreaming. You couldn't help but smile.

It was hard to believe you and this man… _you did, didn't you? You slept together?_

You almost chuckled victoriously at yourself – one of your anxious fears turned into a passionate outlet. It felt freeing, to know that you made the best of something that you dreaded for a long time. Butterflies flew wild in your stomach as your gaze fell onto him.

So peaceful, as though you were dreaming as well.

The comfort you felt with Mark beside you in your bed made you rethink your actions, and feelings, from before. There was nothing to be done about your bakery – dealing with the law and lawyers and advocats was beyond your reach. You knew beating yourself over it would serve no purpose other than becoming detrimental to your health… and make a shitstorm out of your mind.

But knowing was one thing, and _acting upon it_ was another.

So you gently touched Mark's hand and, holding your breath, removed it from your waist, laying it down to the pillow next to him. You took off the covers off of your body, and felt the fresh air escape from the old windows and graze your skin.

You tiptoed to the chair beside your bed, pulling a big nightshirt out of a small pile of clothes. Maybe it wasn't even your shirt, maybe it was his, but you couldn't distinguish it in the dark. Shrugging, you slipped it past your shoulders and reached for the laptop.

You brought the laptop with you to the living room, walking as quietly as you could, as not to wake both Mark, _and_ your cat.

Gently, you sat down on the couch, between almost a dozen pillows. You opened the web page of your bakery, and stared intently into the screen.

The _problem_ won't fix itself, so _you_ are going to try. Maybe it even can't be fixed. But you'll _sure as hell_ try.

 

* * *

 

The Sun rose bright amidst the dark clouds that loomed over the sky.

Mark's cell phone rang loudly, rousing him from deep sleep. He groaned, and lazily reached for the phone.  It was almost noon, and Jack was calling.

“Where in hell are ya? I’ve called ten times by now!” Jack’s voice was loud enough for you to hear, even as you were still on the couch. You considered entering the room, but then turned to the kitchen instead. The éclairs needed filling.

“Look, Jack… Don’t worry, I’ll meet you at the hotel. It’s been a… turn of events.”

You chuckled at his choice of words, but hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble for spending so much time with you. Two days, maybe three? You couldn’t remember, but you wished it would be more days, and even more _nights_.

Your attention turned from Mark’s conversation to the pastry cream in front of you. Milk, vanilla, butter, eggs. And a little flour. It was engrained in your brain, various recipes and the foundations of baking were the truth that held you together.

As you transported the cream into a piping bag, you heard Mark come out of the room. He enveloped you in his arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. A soft rush of blood reached your cheeks, but you remained focused on the work. He watched you make small incisions on the top of the éclairs and fill them with the cream.

“It’s an easy recipe,” You heard yourself saying, matter-of-factly. “You can make it at home when you return. They’re a lot better when they’re fresh and homemade. In the bakery they get soggy.”

“Then why are you making them?”

“Why do you make dessert?” You looked at him strangely. “Because you want to eat it.”

It was only a matter of time when he tells you he has to leave, and return to his country. You dipped one éclair in chocolate ganache and gave it to him. First, he licked the chocolate off the top, and then broke the thing in half to squeeze out the filling.

It was difficult not to laugh at him, but you tried nonetheless. “That’s not how you eat an éclair.”

He smiled, and asked sweetly for another one.

“So, when are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

You drew in a breath. It was sooner than you expected.

“I hope we’ll stay in touch, if you’d want.” His voice was quiet and thoughtful.

“I… of course.”

“I’m still wondering what you were doing last night.” He must have felt you getting out of the bed in the middle of the night.

“Oh… I was just reworking the web page of my shop. I added a rating system and a list of everything I’m selling. If I can’t keep my bakery, then at least I’ll have a web shop. It’s not the same, but maybe it’s easier to advertise on the internet. At least I’ll have a better reach, and hopefully a bigger pool of consumers.”

You saw his lips stretching into a small smile. “You’ve thought this through.”

“I had to. I can’t afford big advertisements, but no one forbids me from having a blog and an inviting web shop.”

Once you were finished, he hugged you tightly, and you couldn’t resist feeling like putty in his arms. Your heart sped up, and your mind raced, but it was almost a welcome excitement.

“We’ll see each other again, don’t worry.” You said, comforting him.

Whether it was truth or lie, you couldn’t possibly know.


End file.
